Catching up

I think this is the first thing that I’ve written on my new mechanical keyboard. At least anything long form. It sort of irritates me that the real first  words penned with this thing were for my day job. It doesn’t deserve that. The day job. I guess the keyboard doesn’t deserve that either. Language – specifically, Englishw – is strange like that.

I haven’t been doing much journaling lately. I’ve been prioritizing sleep over that, honestly. It hasn’t been a fruitful change. I’ve been sleepy. So sleepy that I’ve had to leave work and go get coffee so I could make it through the rest of the day. If not then, I’ve been getting it at lunch time. Five lattes a week. And I wonder why I’m gaining weight. And losing money. I would like to make an improvement to that. I would rather go to bed earlier. Manage my time better. Sleep more. I don’t have the luxury of sleeping in. Or at least not having to wake up at 7 in the morning every day. I know one of the habits of successful people some individual mandate to get your ass out of bed. Time is wasting, and all that shit. I really need to test my typing WPM on this bad boy. I burst up really high.

I published a piece of creative writing today. Maybe it’s an essay. Maybe it’s a short story. Maybe it’s a photo essay. I don’t know. Either way, it’s about depression showers. I wrote most of it on the toilet after I took one. I embellished the timeline. I said in the piece that it happened same-day. It was actually the story of a prior depression shower but written following a completely different depression shower. Does my maxim of honest writing still apply when I come clean on lying on a public blog? Would that devalue the honesty of the writing? The story is about a 0.97:1 retelling of exact details. It’s just that 0.03 that’s punched up.

I’ve been happy lately. I’ve been planning stuff for the future. I’ve been purging. I threw away so much shit. Packaging material. Stuff that I can hold in my hands and go “this does nothing to make me happy.” All of it went in the trash. It’s mostly sorted through, too. Fia is allegedly doing the same to her stuff soon. I’m not going to pressure her about it. If she wants my help, though, she has it. I wonder if this clicky keyboard is annoying to her. I’m going to go ask her. She said ‘a little bit’ but she can tune it out. That’s about as good of an answer as I could expect.

A big addition (subtraction) in favor of that new mentality: I’ve listed my guitars for sale. They’re some of the only things that I have decided to sell. I donated my old sound system from ‘the studio’ room. A lot of things were donated. I hope they can get some good cash for them. Put them to good use.

Father John Misty concert tomorrow. Airbnb in Orlando. Good dinner. Fia and I have been so close lately. Relationships ebb and flow as focuses shift from the relationship to the individual. I say that as a means of soothing my own anxiety over how we’ve been for each other in the past. That sentence makes us seem abusive, or something. We’re just better now than we’ve been in the past. We’ve both made individual decisions to go forward into the future, and we’ve reaffirmed our desires to see each other on the other side. At each other’s side. It feels good. Really good.

We’re planning on going to another show in Atlanta. BROCKHAMPTON. Brockhampton. brockhampton. One of those. We’re trying to get other people to go with us. I think Khalil is going to go. That’s good, because we’re going to be on the other side of the country in less than a year. California, by way of Palo Alto or Fullerton. Chicago. Portland, Oregon. One of those. She narrowed down her college selections to that. I’m happy with any and every one of those options. I just want to be by her side. I want her to take me with her. I’m going to sign that one there. I’m nervous about the piece that’s publishing tomorrow afternoon. I hope people like it. I don’t think it’s all that good.


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